


Warning- This Video Game Might Kill You or How Michael almost Rage Quit Life

by davi_lavonne



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Because it's Gavin, Blood and Injury, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Michael-centric, Mild Blood, Nosebleed, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Vomiting, because it's Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:45:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4241205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davi_lavonne/pseuds/davi_lavonne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael really should learn to not get so angry. He should also learn how to not scare the piss out of his best friend by being covered in blood. Oops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warning- This Video Game Might Kill You or How Michael almost Rage Quit Life

-

 

Rooster Teeth was known for being spontaneous and crazy and fun. Nerf gun battles between offices, scooter races down the long concrete hallways, and pets running all over the place was par the course for the entire building.

 

In the middle of the insanity was the Achievement Hunter office. Laughter and screaming was just a part of daily life for the group. And to those that didn’t know any better, they would think that it was always like that.

 

What most people outside of the RT building didn’t understand was it was also a lot editing and writing and working past the point of endurance just to meet a deadline. Certain videos had to be out certain days; it was a fact of life. ‘AHWU’ and ‘GTA LP’s’ had to be out on Mondays, ‘GO!’ was on Tuesdays, ‘Minecraft LP’s’ were Fridays, and Thursdays were ‘Rage Quit’ days.

 

Michael Jones hated Thursdays.

 

“My boi,” an accented voice called from across the AH office. “It’s time for lunch break, my little Michael!”

 

Michael forced himself to look away from his monitor as it loaded up the start screen for a video game. He glanced to the side, and his eyes found the lanky form of his best friend waiting by the door. Michael watched as the man started to shuffle from foot to foot impatiently, unable to stay still for more than a second.

 

“Can’t boi,” he replied to the Brit, feeling frustrated but still sounding amused, mostly due to Gavin’s fidgeting. “I slept through my alarm this morning and wasn’t able to get here early. So I have to do my ‘Rage Quit’ vid now.”

 

“My poor Mogar,” said Gavin sympathetically, stilling his movements as he looked between Michael and the doorway. “Do you want me to stay and keep you company?”

 

“You can’t afford to miss meals, you mong. You already look like a fucking twig,” remarked Michael, making a shooing motion towards the door. “Besides, I’m a big boy and can do a video by myself without a damn babysitter.”

 

“If you’re sure…” Gavin said hesitantly, before brightening. “I’ll bring you back something to eat for later, ‘kay?”

 

“Hell, I won’t turn down free food,” agreed Michael, turning back to his loaded game. He could feel his lips curl into a small smile. “Thanks Gav. Team Nice Dynamite?”

 

“You know it boi,” was his cheerful answer. 

 

He waited until Gavin shut the door behind him before taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out. He already had a low-grade headache and while he needed to project anger to the viewers, he also needed to be able to work for the rest of the day. Thankfully, years of doing Rage Quits had taught him a few handy tricks. His best trick was his ability to project emotion and basically ‘fake it and make it’. Staying calm inside while raging on the outside would hopefully help keep his stress levels down. 

 

“I can be calm,” he muttered to himself as he started his recording software. “I can be a fucking Zen Master.” 

 

“Just call me Buddha,” he said as he pressed play.

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________

 

“SWEET GANDHI’S TITS! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS MOTHERFUCKING GAME!?” Michael roared into his speaker as his on-screen character died for the 33rd time. He had only been playing for around twenty minutes and already knew this game would forever be on his shit list. The controls sucked, the enemies were overpowered, and the damn game kept freezing every 30 seconds without fail.

 

“AAAAARRRRGGGHH!” He screamed as he was in-game murdered yet again. His headache was at an all-time high and he could practically feel his blood pressure rising. From previous experiences, he knew that his face was probably beet red, verging on purple. He was breathing hard through his mouth and his hands were gripping his Xbox controller so hard that he was surprised he hadn’t snapped it yet. Gritting his teeth, he leaned forward and jammed his finger onto the button that would respawn him. 

 

Michael quickly got to what killed him last time and with a hint of skill and a lot of luck, he passed it and continued on. And finally, he hit a lucky break. He was the farthest that he had ever gotten and could see the doorway to the end of the level.

 

“Up, down, left, down, up, up, right, up, down, left, ri- WHAT THE FUCK?! I FUCKING HAD IT, YOU FUCK!”

 

Slamming his controller against his desk and letting out a guttural yell, the Jersey boy kicked his foot against his desk and sent a pile of papers flying. Video game disks and knick-knacks hit the ground. Blind with rage, he went to kick it again and felt something wet drip onto his lip and froze. Confused, Michael wiped his arm under his nose and saw a streak of blood.

 

“Oh shit,” he said surprised. He hadn’t had a nosebleed in years. Fumbling his hands, he quickly paused his game and his capture footage. Twisting his head, he found a wad of paper towels and bunched them up under his nose. Remembering what to do from the last time this happened, he leaned forward and tried to pinch his fingers and close his nostrils. 

 

When this had happened previously, it had been caused by teenage Michael hitting the ground face first and was easily taken care of. It had only bled a little and was over within seconds. This time, after waiting several minutes, the curly haired man could still feel the red liquid running from his face and knew the blood soaked paper towel was being absolutely no help. No matter how hard he squeezed his nose, it continued to bleed heavily. It ran down his hand and dripped off his arm onto the ground, causing little crimson spots on the carpet.

 

“Fuck me,” he moaned, regretting it instantly when blood got into his mouth. Deciding to keep his mouth shut for the first time in his life, he wondered how long his body could safely bleed. Swiveling his chair, Michael located the wall clock and made a decision.

 

‘If it doesn’t stop in ten minutes, I’ll call one of the guys,’ he decided internally as he kept his eyes glued to it. 

 

Minutes slowly ticked down and the Jersey man could feel himself get more and more annoyed. Replaying the events in his head, his annoyance fell away, to be replaced with a dark sense of humor at the situation. He couldn’t believe his bad luck. 

 

‘This is it, isn’t it?’ He cynically thought. ‘This is how I die. Fucking rage quit life. Un-fucking-believable.’

 

After mentally bemoaning his impending doom a little while longer, Michael noticed that the blood had tapered off and that he could now try to release some of the pressure he had on his nose. Carefully prodding under the bridge of his nose, he realized that there wasn’t any new blood staining his fingers, and he fully let go of his face. He haphazardly tossed the drenched paper towel towards a trashcan, missing it completely.

 

His head was fucking killing him. The pressure had not let up and the pain was to the point now that Michael had to shut his eyes because the overhead lights hurt like a bitch. He was also slightly nauseous and felt a little bit lightheaded.

 

‘I better find somewhere to lie down before I fall over,’ he thought. He readied himself and took a deep breath, before slowly rising. He had a tight grip on the back of his chair, which kept him standing when a wave of dizziness made his knees slightly buckle. He knew the direction of the couch they kept in the office without having to open his eyes and so, blind and half ill, he shuffled like a geriatric person towards the piece of furniture. In less than ten steps, he felt the front of his legs bump up against the sofa and he carefully sprawled across it, worried that any quick movement would cause him to vomit or worse, cause his nose to start bleeding again. 

 

Michael focused on taking even breaths through his mouth and keeping his eyes closed. With his right hand, he reached under the couch to grab a small pillow that a fan had sent them a long time ago. It had the Rooster Teeth logo and was incredibly comfortable. Sticking it under his head, the Jersey man felt himself start to fully relax. His head still hurt but he didn’t feel like he was going to throw up anymore. 

 

He let out a yawn and stretched. Falling asleep wasn’t super professional but it would hopefully take care of his headache. Knowing he had about an hour before the guys got back, he decided a nap wouldn’t hurt and quickly fell asleep.

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Michael was roughly shaken awake by tattooed hands clutching his shirt. Blinking his eyes open, he saw he was face to face with an extremely worried Geoff Ramsey.

 

“Oh my God, thank fucking Christ,” the older man said, dropping his hands and letting out a relieved breath before calling out, “Jack, don’t worry about it. He’s awake.”

 

“Geoff, what’s wrong?” Michael asked, confused by what’s going on. He was still a little groggy from the rough wake up. “What’s up?”

 

“That’s what we’d like to know,” said the voice of Jack as the bearded man walked into Michael’s line of sight. “We got back and there was blood all over the floor and we see you, and you are completely covered in it, man.” He held up his cellphone. “I was a second away from calling either an ambulance or a morgue.”

 

And suddenly, Michael was very awake. He quickly looked down, and he let out a breathy gasp as his eyes widened. His shirt, his arms, even his pants, were drenched in blood and had transferred over to the couch, turning the pristine whiteness of the fabric into a bad tie-dye job. Over time, it had begun to have a tacky consistency that was very uncomfortable against his skin. He glanced at the floor and saw blood splatters all over the carpet from both himself and the bloody paper towel that had apparently bounced across the room, leaving decent sized splotches of crimson on the floor.

 

It looked like a murder had taken place.

 

“Shit,” Michael breathed, sitting up. He looked between Geoff and Jack as he explained, “I was recording a video and had a hell of a nosebleed. I got it under control but still didn’t feel great so I was going to take a nap for a bit. I had no fucking clue it had been so bad to have left such a big ass mess.”

 

“Who cares about the mess, dude? I thought I was going to have to hire a new co-worker!” Geoff exclaimed, clapping Michael on the back. “That’s paperwork I do not need and having to break in someone new would’ve sucked dicks.” He gave a joking grin. “We just finally got you trained the way we want you.”

 

“Geoff, please,” scoffed Michael playfully. ”You can’t hide the love from me, man.”

 

Geoff opened his mouth, more than likely ready to say something rude, when the door to the office slammed open. A haggard and stressed looking Ryan Haywood sped into the room, out of breath. His eyes settled on Michael.

 

“Oh good; you’re alive,” said Ryan, sounding relieved. He followed that with, “Please tell me you can walk. We have a fucking problem.”

 

“What-,” began Jack, but was quickly interrupted.

 

“Gavin was the one who first found you looking like that,” Ryan explained quickly, gesturing at Michael. “He just shut down, man. He thinks you’re dead and is about two seconds away from a nervous breakdown.”

 

“Where is he?!” Michael asked, heart in his throat. “You didn’t leave him by himself, did you?!”

 

“He’s down the hall in the men’s bathroom,” said Ryan, sounding worried. He gave Michael an affronted look. “Do you think I’m stupid? Of course I didn’t. Lindsay’s trying to clean him up now. He vomited all over the place and is curled around one of the toilets.”

 

That was all he needed to know. He scrambled to his feet and ignoring the worried voices of the gents, he rushed past them and sprinted out of the office and down the hall as quickly as possible. His head wasn’t blinding him with pain anymore, but he didn’t know if that was because the nap had helped or because he was currently filled with adrenaline inducing fear. All he could think about was if he had been the one to have found Gav covered in blood and not moving, it would’ve broken something inside of him. That British idiot was his best damn friend and he would be so hollow inside without him. Living without him by his side wasn’t an option and he knew that his partner in crime felt the same way about him.

 

Michael made it to the bathroom in record time, face red and panting. He leaned against the wall to catch his breath and as soon as he felt like he wasn’t going to keel over, he went to reach for the door. Before he could grab it; however, the door cracked open and Lindsay poked her head out.

 

“Holy crap, you look terrible,” said Lindsay, looking Michael up and down. “No wonder Gavin’s having a fit.”

 

She quickly ushered him inside and pointed to the far left stall. Her body language said she was in a no nonsense mood and it reassured Michael that at least this strong woman that was his friend had it together.

 

“He’s over there and hasn’t been very responsive to me,” the red headed woman explained, keeping her eyes fixed on his. “At first it was like he was having a panic attack, and then suddenly, he just completely stilled. I’m going to give you some space and try to keep out the rest of the guys but if you can’t get him out of his head, we might have to call an ambulance.”

 

Michael shook his head at that, knowing his boi would hate being in a hospital, even if only for a second. “It won’t come to that,” he said resolutely.

 

“I sure hope so,” she replied. She gave him a nod and a small smile, before closing the door behind her. 

 

As soon as the door shut, Michael realized just how quiet it was. All he could hear was his heartbeat pounding in his head and himself breathing deeply. He began to walk toward the end stall and his footsteps echoed through the room. He slowly opened the stall door and looked down. His heart nearly broke at the sight of his friend.

 

Gavin was on his knees in front of the toilet, his body leaning slightly on the side of the stall. He had his arms wrapped around himself and his whole body was trembling. His breathing was shaky and wet sounding, as if he was seconds away from crying, and that freaked Michael out the most. Gavin _never_ cried.

 

“Gav?” Michael said as folded himself beside Gavin. “Gavin, it’s me, man.” He carefully reached out and put his hands on his shoulders. 

 

Gavin visibly shuddered away from the touch and let out a whine.

 

“Hey,” soothed Michael, shuffling closer. “It’s alright, boi. You’re okay.” Seeing that the lanky man’s eyes were still firmly shut, he asked, “Could you open your eyes for me buddy?”

 

“Noooo,” moaned Gavin, shaking his head violently. “I can’t, I can’t...”

 

“Gav-o, please?”

 

Gavin just continued to shake his head. “I can’t. I’ve lost my damn mind and I don’t want to see it. I can’t.

 

“Can’t what?” Michael asked, starting to sound slightly desperate. “What don’t you want to see?”

 

“That you aren’t really here!” Gavin blurted out, hysterically. “I saw you and oh God, there was so much blood. And if I open my eyes, you won’t be here because you are d-“ Suddenly, Gavin lurched forward and started to retch into the toilet. It sounded like nothing was coming up anymore and all he could do was dry heave painfully into the ceramic.

 

Feeling helpless, Michael crouched as close to his upset friend as he could without squashing him and began to rub his back. He felt him stiffen but chose to ignore it and waited for him to relax. After the dry heaves finally stopped, Michael swallowed and tried to think of the right words to say.

 

“Gav, I swear I’m not dead,” Michael said slowly, continuing to rub circles on the thin back. “I lost my cool during the video and had a nosebleed and fell asleep. And that was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry for scaring you so bad, boi.” 

 

There was silence as Gav seemed to process that. His whole body slumped.

 

“You promise you’re not dead?” Gavin asked weakly, sounding emotionally drained. “If you’re not dead I’m going to beat the shit out of you for being an awful prick of a friend.”

 

“Can’t beat me up with your eyes closed,” Michael tried to bribe. He kept both of his hands lightly against Gavin’s shoulders and just waited for him to react.

 

He watched as the Brit slowly turned away from the bowl and shakily raised his hands to grip onto Michael’s wrists. Michael felt the long fingers tighten and squeeze against his skin and wondered if there would be bruises there tomorrow. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. His full attention was on his friend’s face and he watched him slowly open his eyes. 

 

“See I’m alright,” Michael said with a kind smile. He then teased, “You gonna punch the fuck out of me now?”

 

It was as if those words were cue, because suddenly Gavin dropped his wrists and lunged for Michael. He half expected to feel a fist in his face but instead felt scrawny arms wrap tightly around his torso and clutch onto the back of his t-shirt. He felt Gav’s face pressed against his throat and could hear the man’s breath begin to stutter and feel wet.

 

“Please don’t cry, boi,” pleaded Michael. He returned the hug with one hand and brought the other one up to rub against Gav’s scalp. He rhythmically ran his fingers through the spiky locks and unthinkingly pressed a kiss there as well. 

 

“’M not,” Gavin croaked, obviously trying to sound unconcerned but failing. He sniffed hard and cleared his throat. “Not crying, boi. Thanks for not being a crazy person’s hallucination.”

 

“Thanks for not knocking me on my ass,” replied Michael with a little humor.

 

“I could never hurt my little Michael,” he said as he let go of Michael with one hand and rubbed at his eyes. “Besides, I’d only get in one decent tap before you would promptly lay me out and beat me to death.”

 

“Well, you’re not wrong,” the Jersey native acquiesced, ruffling the locks still in his face and hearing his friend squawk. He felt him pull away fully and found his eyes meeting Gavin’s bloodshot ones. He felt something inside of himself slot back into place and was hit with the overwhelming affection he held for the man in front of him. 

 

'Gavin means everything to me,' He thought, slightly dazed by the revelation.

 

“Please don’t do that ever again,” Gavin said, bumping his head lightly against Michael’s. “My heart cannot take it, boi. I adore you too damn much.”

 

Without considering the consequences, Michael went to lean forward. All he could think was about how badly he wanted to brush his lips against the Brit’s. Before he could, he felt the palm of a hand press against his chest to stop his movement. Gavin had stopped him. He was both instantly disappointed and incredibly embarrassed and went to pull away completely. 

 

The hand on his chest gripped tightly onto his shirt.

 

“Oh no, you don’t,” said Gavin loudly, getting Michael's attention. “First off, I just vomited all over the place. Do you really want that in your mouth?” He waited for Michael to dumbly shake his head before continuing. “You also still look like you reenacted the prom scene from ‘Carrie’.”

 

“It’s not that bad,” argued Michael weakly, not knowing how to read the situation at all. 

 

Gavin gave him an unimpressed stare. “I want to be wined and dined, Michael,” he griped. “I want to go and eat and have a good time with my date. So when I invite you to a lunch date, don’t blow it off to do a video and then bleed to death.”

 

Michael gaped at him.

 

“That was supposed to be a date?!” Michael exclaimed, as he mentally went back over the afternoon and wondered if he had missed an obvious hint and kicking himself.

 

Breaking character, Gavin let out a squeaky giggle. “Nah, I’m just messing boi. It was only Torchy’s Tacos.” He slowly rose to his feet and Michael followed him. “Don’t know what happened to your food, to be honest. I saw you and went a bit spaffy.”

 

“No worries, Gavvy. I can safely say I’ve lost my appetite,” said Michael. He looked back down at himself and grimaced. “I should go home and change.” Watching Gavin’s face drop, he quickly made a decision. “And you’re coming with me.”

 

“I am?” Gavin asked, sounding beyond confused. 

 

“I’m going home because I just had a ‘medical emergency’ and shouldn’t be working, “said Michael as he made air quotes. “You are obviously sick because you threw up, and you need to go home. So instead of that, how ‘bout you come over to my place and we can play video games and later get dinner.” He then hesitated, before warily asking, “And maybe you can then stay over and sleep in my bed?”

 

There was a moment of silence as he watched Gavin process his words.

 

“Are you asking me out in the company bathroom while covered in blood and after I just puked everywhere?” Gavin questioned, a smile forming on his face.

 

“Well, I mean… Maybe?”

 

Gavin smiled a shit-eating grin and let out a laugh. Nodding, Gavin whipped his arm out and grasped Michael's hand and tangled their fingers together. He swung their joined hands back and forth playfully.

 

"Alright boi," he said, still grinning as they headed to the door. He haughtily challenged, "Woo me."

 

As he followed him back out into the world, Michael couldn't help but grin back as he said confidently, "Too late."

 

 

-

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's been a while. Been busy working to make that money for RTX but when I saw that glackedandmullered was having a Michael-Centric Contest, I got the itch to write. So thanks a ton, Chu!! <3


End file.
